 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
Why, what demon is this, with the logic of Hell,
That pleads for the wild Beast within me so well—
The Beast that was doomed to a Cross by the Three
Awful names, that are named in the great Mystery?
Down, down, thou foul fiend! Hence to leprous romance
Of the demi-monde poisonous mushrooms of France.
Better sin like a man, doing after his kind,
Than sit here cold-blooded, debauching the mind.—
Hark! Ralph sings again, but he sings all alone,
And he wails now, poor fellow, the days that are gone.
That pleads for the wild Beast within me so well—
The Beast that was doomed to a Cross by the Three
Awful names, that are named in the great Mystery?
Down, down, thou foul fiend! Hence to leprous romance
Of the demi-monde poisonous mushrooms of France.
Better sin like a man, doing after his kind,
Than sit here cold-blooded, debauching the mind.—
Hark! Ralph sings again, but he sings all alone,
And he wails now, poor fellow, the days that are gone.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |